


they got themselves together and brought a ranch twelve miles either side away from everything

by the_ocean_weekender



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005), Brokeback Mountain - All Media Types, Brokeback Mountain - Annie Proulx
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Gratuitous Metaphors and a Ranch Location Picked With The Dubious Help of Google Maps, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ocean_weekender/pseuds/the_ocean_weekender
Summary: For the prompt: I want to see a happy end for the two of them, but also not a HAPPY happy end.Alternatively: Happy New Year, have some gay cowboys :)
Relationships: Ennis Del Mar/Jack Twist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 can kiss my arse. What better way to start off a new year than binge-writing gay cowboys??
> 
> There's 2 chapters to this- they both are essentially the same, but I couldn't decide what ending I liked better, so the second one has the expanded ending. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The world swallows back up Ennis Del Mar with a groan as he finally blinks open his eyes and comes awake again. He realises what’s woken him up without even having to finish that thought. Jack isn’t in bed. There’s an empty space next to him growing cooler by the second, sheets glowing blue in the moonlight.

Ennis _listens_. Highway Thirteen twelve miles south is silent; so’s their ranch, with not so much a whicker from a horse or sheep. No rooster crowing, so it ain’t morning either. In fact- it’s 1:31am exactly. _Just what the fuck is going on here?_

He pushes himself up on one elbow as the old pipes creak and moan and the floorboards give a cut-off little squeak. Then, nothing.

If anything were wrong, the bitch and her five pups in the kitchen would have started making a whole lotta noise a long time ago. Instead, Ennis can just hear her soft snores, rumbling off the kitchen tiles. He frowns and sits up higher and listens closer. That’s when the retching starts. For reasons never quite explained, even much later and just to himself, Ennis stays where he is. Doesn’t get up to help, go see, check on him, nothing. (He wonders why.) Something about listening to your lover’s body emptying itself- in _both_ ways, now- in another room makes cold creep into his gut and grab hold of his heart and squeeze it tight.

It ends. Silence swallows the farmhouse back up. It cracks apart with a brief sput of the cold-water tap; water crashing against the sink and being spat out. _Then_ nothing.

Ennis can finally goddamn move again. He doesn’t move.

Lets the silence settle a while longer, then when there’s still no stirring: “Jack?” he calls gruffly, barely loud enough to be heard and internally cursing himself for it. His answer is the creak of floorboards, the flick of a light switch, a dark shadow announcing Jack’s return to the bedroom and more creaking as he lurches back into bed.

Ennis lets him get settled, waits for him to be still before pulling the covers up over them, trying to make sure he’s all tucked in. Perhaps he hears just the tiniest twitch and huff of amusement and is surprised that the idea of it doesn’t ignite not even an ember of embarrassment or anger, being caught out being so soft like this. He lies back down himself before asking, “You okay?”

Jack’s all curled up tight- knees to his chin, arms hugging himself sorta way, like his daughters used to on Christmas Eve. Still, he turns and smiles over his shoulder tiredly at him, the smile flickering in and out of existence like the curve of the moon and his voice rasping low in his chest. “Sure, jus’ bellyache.” The moon turns into stars as his mouth moves to form words, then winks out when he settles back down, eyes closing and breath evening out. It has the opposite effect on Ennis, who sits bolt upright and _stares_. Jack gives a noise of displeasure as the covers shift and the winter air hits his clammy skin. Thoughts speed through Ennis’ head at a gallop, racing like cars and each one making his ribcage a little smaller and tighter.

In spite of all this, all he can manage to say is, “Ain’t concussion, is it?” Maybe he had had an accident when he drove into town and didn’t tell him. Something _more_ than an accident, involving fists and guys and guys who live with other guys.

If he weren’t so tired, Jack’d be rolling his eyes in exasperation right now and Ennis knows it. “Naw, ain’t a concussion.”

They been eating the same thing for nigh on a year now, so it can’t be… “You’re not hot,” he frowns, hand moving from forehead to cheek to neck to back. Jack gives him another of _those_ grins whilst barely turning his head and now it’s Ennis’ turn to roll his eyes. “Eejit.”

With more raspy coaxing he finally lies back down, making sure the quilt is all tucked in again. Gingerly, Jack turns over so they’re facing each other; catches the hand Ennis has hovering and not quite daring to touch with and stroking it with his thumb before kissing his fingers. It’s something he’s only started doing since they got themselves together and brought a ranch twelve miles either side away from everything. And only when the lights are off and they’re both being kinda soft.

He presses one last kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger, where a wedding ring was meant to be for so many years; where he had to excuse himself by saying it might get caught in machinery.

Maybe he should get a ring now, now he doesn’t need any excuse at all.

But then, he thinks as his hand is carefully curled around a waist, what’s he need a ring for, now, when he has Jack right here every day?


	2. Alternative ending

The world swallows back up Ennis Del Mar with a groan as he finally blinks open his eyes and comes awake again. He realises what’s woken him up without even having to finish that thought. Jack isn’t in bed. There’s an empty space next to him growing cooler by the second, sheets glowing blue in the moonlight.

Ennis _listens_. Highway Thirteen twelve miles south is silent; so’s their ranch, with not so much a whicker from a horse or sheep. No rooster crowing, so it ain’t morning either. In fact- it’s 1:31am exactly. _Just what the fuck is going on here?_

He pushes himself up on one elbow as the old pipes creak and moan and the floorboards give a cut-off little squeak. Then, nothing.

If anything were wrong, the bitch and her five pups in the kitchen would have started making a whole lotta noise a long time ago. Instead, Ennis can just hear her soft snores, rumbling off the kitchen tiles. He frowns and sits up higher and listens closer. That’s when the retching starts. For reasons never quite explained, even much later and just to himself, Ennis stays where he is. Doesn’t get up to help, go see, check on him, nothing. (He wonders why.) Something about listening to your lover’s body emptying itself- in _both_ ways, now- in another room makes cold creep into his gut and grab hold of his heart and squeeze it tight.

It ends. Silence swallows the farmhouse back up. It cracks apart with a brief sput of the cold-water tap; water crashing against the sink and being spat out. _Then_ nothing.

Ennis can finally goddamn move again. He doesn’t move.

Lets the silence settle a while longer, then when there’s still no stirring: “Jack?” he calls gruffly, barely loud enough to be heard and internally cursing himself for it. His answer is the creak of floorboards, the flick of a light switch, a dark shadow announcing Jack’s return to the bedroom and more creaking as he lurches back into bed.

Ennis lets him get settled, waits for him to be still before pulling the covers up over them, trying to make sure he’s all tucked in. Perhaps he hears just the tiniest twitch and huff of amusement and is surprised that the idea of it doesn’t ignite not even an ember of embarrassment or anger, being caught out being so soft like this. He lies back down himself before asking, “You okay?”

Jack’s all curled up tight- knees to his chin, arms hugging himself sorta way, like his daughters used to on Christmas Eve. Still, he turns and smiles over his shoulder tiredly at him, the smile flickering in and out of existence like the curve of the moon and his voice rasping low in his chest. “Sure, jus’ bellyache.” The moon turns into stars as his mouth moves to form words, then winks out when he settles back down, eyes closing and breath evening out. It has the opposite effect on Ennis, who sits bolt upright and _stares_. Jack gives a noise of displeasure as the covers shift and the winter air hits his clammy skin. Thoughts speed through Ennis’ head at a gallop, racing like cars and each one making his ribcage a little smaller and tighter.

In spite of all this, all he can manage to say is, “Ain’t concussion, is it?” Maybe he had had an accident when he drove into town and didn’t tell him. Something _more_ than an accident, involving fists and guys and guys who live with other guys.

If he weren’t so tired, Jack’d be rolling his eyes in exasperation right now and Ennis knows it. “Naw, ain’t a concussion.”

They been eating the same thing for nigh on a year now, so it can’t be… “You’re not hot,” he frowns, hand moving from forehead to cheek to neck to back. Jack gives him another of _those_ grins whilst barely turning his head and now it’s Ennis’ turn to roll his eyes. “Eejit.”

With more raspy coaxing he finally lies back down, making sure the quilt is all tucked in again. Gingerly, Jack turns over so they’re facing each other; catches the hand Ennis has hovering and not quite daring to touch with and stroking it with his thumb before kissing his fingers. It’s something he’s only started doing since they got themselves together and brought a ranch twelve miles either side away from everything. And only when the lights are off and they’re both being kinda soft.

He presses one last kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger, where a wedding ring was meant to be for so many years; where he had to excuse himself by saying it might get caught in machinery.

Maybe he should get a ring now, now he doesn’t need any excuse at all.

But then, he thinks as his hand is carefully curled around a waist, what’s he need a ring for, now, when he has Jack right here every day?

Ennis thinks he manages to sleep a bit, though he’s conscious of Jack lying next to him the whole while, barely managing to doze off at all. The next time the bed groans and he is left alone in bed tonight- not even an hour later- Ennis gets up and follows.

There’s very little he can actually _do_ , in the circumstances, but he doesn’t care, and he thinks Jack maybe appreciates him just being there.

It’s hardly a pleasant experience for either of them, but seeing as it took them over twenty years to get their shit together and get together properly, Ennis isn’t going to back away from Jack now. Not even for the less than pleasant parts.


End file.
